Turning Tables
by sparklylulz
Summary: Sometimes he wished he could just stop, give up loving House because it was an unhealthy, suffocating feeling. Still, he knew that he wouldn't trade all their years of friendship for anything and that somehow managed to break his heart even more. -Hilson


**A/N: Yeah, I'm on a roll, I guess. But I love this song and have wanted to do something with it forever, and I finally settled on House and Wilson because I honestly feel like it matches them well. I kind of fell off the House bandwagon because I hate Huddy, so excuse this if it doesn't match the show. Of course this started off angst then had to run its own way.**

**Not a whole lot of dialogue and probably too much word vomited angst, but I hope you enjoy it (:**

–

"_All that I say, you always say more  
>I can't keep up with your turning tables<br>Under your thumb, I can't breathe  
>So I won't let you close enough to hurt me<br>No, I won't ask you, you to just desert me  
>I can't give you, what you think you gave me<br>It's time to say goodbye to turning tables."_

_-_Adele

–

James Wilson tried to his life in the most wholesome way he could, unfortunately being best friends with Gregory House made living his life in an honest manner very hard indeed. For all the years they had been friends, Wilson had always pretended the reason he stuck around was because House was the best friend he had ever had. Anyone that knew them knew House was pretty substandard as friendship went, but Wilson understood, and that made it easy to pretend there was nothing more there.

There was always the sense of protection that lingered in his chest for House. It reared up with Stacy and again with Cuddy. It was a depressing reality that Wilson was the only person in House's miserable life who had never let him down. Maybe that was why Wilson went along with stupid bets like hiding chickens in the hospital. He hated seeing that look in House's eyes that he tried to pretend didn't exist- the one that showed obvious hurt. The face he had made after Stacy left; the face he made after Wilson stopped talking to him with Amber's death; the face he now made every time Cuddy walked by.

Of course Wilson had always known that there was something different in his relationship with House than most males of their age who were friends. What with buying House's lunch everyday, always being there when House needed someone to lean on, and never giving up on him it sort of made sense that he'd fall in love with him after awhile.

He never dared say those words aloud, because being in love with House was asking for pain, and yet, he seemed to get a fair share of that by just being House's friend. It was an inevitability, he had decided after the whole 'Holy shit, I'm in love with my best friend, who is a male,' thing wore off. It explained so much, everything from his failed marriages to his inability to ever actually leave House.

Maybe he always picked dying women because they gave him a legitimate reason to grieve the loss of love instead of simply pining for his irritating and intriguing best friend. Wilson would bet his life that no one understood House better than he did, still most days he felt like he didn't know anything about House at all.

He slipped up in showing his affections fairly regularly. His desire to share their apartment, his fake proposal to House, and then there was the organ. He had known the moment he bought it that it would cross a line he and House had never really faced before. Of course, House had responded in the cryptic infuriating way about him.

"_I like what this says about you, Wilson_."

What the hell did that even mean? Wilson was fairly sure he had been saying 'I love you, you stupid, irritating man,' but he couldn't even pretend to know what House was thinking. House never really voiced his feelings unless it was a dire situation where one or both of their lives were threatened. Wilson knew House needed him, though, because House hated being alone more than anything else. That was one of the few things they shared as far as personalities went.

Wilson liked to think he balanced out House's dominating, rude, and logical personality with his own soft, kind spoken, matters of the heart approach to life. Sometimes being the one with the heart sucked though, seeing as he was the one left hopelessly in love with a man who most people thought was inhabited by some sort of demon.

He watched as House limped towards the table they shared every day, sitting down before stealing one of Wilson's fries. He cocked his head to the side before his handsome face wrinkled looking at his best friend.

"You're thinking about feelings again, aren't you?" He sighed, continuing to eat Wilson's food. Wilson was flustered naturally, sometimes he hated being House's friend.

"No, I'm not. You could, you know, buy your own food instead of stealing mine, by the way." Wilson said in that pseudo-impatient way he often used when speaking to House.

"Don't lie, Wilson, it's not a flattering look for you. Your baby blues have that misty look they get when you're thinking with your heart instead of your brain, which if you haven't heard, is what you're supposed to think with." House smirked, taking one last fry before his pager went off alerting to a development with his case.

"Sorry, honey, but the kids are calling. See you at home." He quipped sarcastically before standing up and grabbing his cane. Wilson watched him walk away with a sort of ache in his chest that always came after he spent any time with House these days.

Sometimes he wished he could just stop, give up loving House because it was an unhealthy, suffocating feeling. Yet, he still knew that he wouldn't trade all their years of friendship for anything and that somehow managed to break his heart even more.

–

It had taken a lot to get House to agree to move in with him again, but that's how those sorts of things always ended up working out. Somehow fate always threw them together; sometimes he swore that his life was just one big Sherlock Holmes novel. He just hoped that his life ended up a little bit better than the ones depicted in Sherlock Holmes stories.

After Cuddy had made the decision to dump House, which Wilson had expected all along, House had gone on a mad streak of so much destruction it was a miracle Wilson hadn't killed himself just to not have to deal with his friend. Still, he knew that he could never just desert House like that, because he tried to be an honest gentleman, and if he were being honest he would say that he was the only person who would never give up on the eccentric doctor.

Wilson found himself sitting on the couch, head in his hands, trying to force his brain to just shut the hell up for once. He was tired of his entire life being about House, but he couldn't foresee that changing any time soon. He sighed deeply, wondering what would happen if he just told House how he felt. He wasn't sure how it could get much worse.

"Honey! I'm home!" The shock of hearing House's voice from the door caused Wilson to jump off the couch.

"Jumpy tonight are we? Still thinking of feelings?" House smirked, hanging his cane and coat up in the closet before turning and landing on the couch. Wilson didn't even bother to cringe when House put his shoes on the couch.

"Yes, House, I was thinking about feelings, you know those things you pretend you don't have?" Wilson sighed, placing his hand on his hips as was a regular stance when House was around. He felt like a silly high school girl.

"I don't pretend to not have feelings, I just don't wear them on my sleeves like a teenage girl." House stated matter of factly, glancing at Wilson, who stood rooted to the spot.

Watching House sigh into the comforting leather set something off in Wilson. After all of his wallowing, it seemed like he finally needed to try. House was no longer as fragile about the Cuddy thing, and he was in a good mood after solving a case. It was a now or never moment that he had never had the courage to face before.

"I think I might be in love with you." It came out in a rush, more like word vomit than an actual sentence, but he knew House understood by the way the lines in his back became rigid.

Wilson felt the need to explain himself and couldn't stop his mouth from speaking, "I just, I've known you forever. Let's be honest, House, I'm the only person who's never gotten tired of you. I guess it just made sense to fall in love with you after a while." He spoke gently, before seeing House's mouth spread into that same smirk he always had.

"I wondered how long it would take you to say it, gotta be honest, I was expecting it sooner." House said nonchalantly, standing up to pluck an apple off the counter and taking a bite.

Wilson felt his jaw literally drop at House's response before he could sputter his reply. "You- You _knew_ about this?" He nearly shrieked in indignation, his heart threatening to give up beating.

House gave him the look that had always served as an incredulous gaze before. "Wilson, I'm not an idiot. No self respecting man buys his friend an organ for just a decoration gift." He grinned, pointing to the old organ nestled in the corner of the room.

"That damn organ." Wilson swore, looking up to his friend, "But, what did you mean, then, when you said you liked what it said about me?" He asked curiously, hope pushing down on him. He knew it was dumb to hope when House was concerned but his heart wasn't really listening to logic at the moment.

"I meant what I said." House said simply, shrugging. "I told you that you lived your life being defined by others and kissing ass, which you do." He grinned at Wilson's frown, "But the organ was something you did out of care. It was a decision you made because you were confident enough in our relationship to know I'd like it. It said that you were confident in me which I loosely interpreted to mean you loved me." He explained it all logically like it was some sort of puzzle he had pieced together, which come to think of it, that was probably exactly what happened.

Wilson paused to process this information, because really House sometimes knew him better than he knew himself. So if House had said he liked that about Wilson, the fact that he was saying 'I love you,' did that mean what he thought?

"Oh, for the love of god, Wilson. Yes, it means I'm trying to say that I love you too, don't give yourself a stroke, I don't have room to take you to ER on my bike." He said suddenly, and Wilson was pretty sure he was dreaming.

"But, Cuddy-" Wilson began, trying to help his brain understand how on earth this was happening.

"Cuddy was good in bed and interesting to date, but you're right. You're the only person who's never broken my heart or given up on me, no matter how much I sabotage our relationship. We have outlasted every other relationship; even Cameron and Chase." House stated, "So, yeah, it only made logical sense to fall in love with you."

Wilson scoffed, "Of course you have to use logic to tell me you love me." He kept of the facade of being irritated, while on the inside he was dancing the conga.

"Oh quit pretending like this isn't the greatest night of your life and kiss me." House said, pulling Wilson to him in that dominating way, and pressing his lips to Wilson's.

Wilson could feel House's stubble on his lips, which was weird seeing as he had never actually kissed a man before, but decided that he didn't care. It was House, the man who had sat by his sick bed; the man who had bailed him out of jail; the man who stood in this small kitchen confessing his love for Wilson.

"Jesus, Wilson, why did all of your wives leave you?" House asked when they broke apart, giving an appreciative look to Wilson who laughed in response.

"Because they weren't six foot and going gray." He quipped back, which earned him to be pelted with a peanut by House.

"Yeah, yeah. You still love me." House smirked.

"That I do." Wilson said, "Good thing too, who else would hide your porn collection at work from Cuddy?" He turned to go to the bathroom leaving a laughing House in his wake.


End file.
